


Reconstruction

by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12



Series: Everything Changed WIth Kadavo [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aggressive Neogtiations, Attack on Mandalore, Attack on the Jedi temple, Betrayal, Darth Maul returns a bit late, Interrogation, Jedi Order Reform, Kidnapping, Lightsaber Battles, Multi, The Wrong Jedi AU, Torture (non graphic)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12/pseuds/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 of Leaving Kadavo in Chains. The threat of the Sith is seemingly over and the war is drawing to its close. However new threats are rising, and the Jedi equipped to handle it are injured and under scrutiny. Political unrest and suspicious activities, propelled by the dark side, is threatening to tear at a galaxy almost ripped apart by war; and damaging the unity of the Order capable of stopping it</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revival

**Author's Note:**

> Beginning to post part two! Hope you all enjoyed part 1, and I hope you like this as well! :) Please let me know what you think!

His comlink was beeping. For the first time in a while. He simply looked at it for a minute before coding the end of the Hologram in front of him, the final battle plans for Utapau disappearing back from the projection screen. "Ahsoka? What's the problem?"

"Nothing to worry about Master," but her voice was high pitched, she was practically panting. "Go to the meditation room." And then, as quickly as she had come, her voice disappeared as she severed the communication between them. He stepped back from the computer, nodding at the temple guard who stood by the doorway who acknowledged him with a slight turn of head. He was close enough to the meditation room, and even though the halls were bustling with Jedi, he wove his way between them with easy determination.

They stared at he walked by, some voices dropping to low whispers. Such had been his life for the past two weeks. He had almost forgotten what it had been like when he first arrived at the temple and their whispers and stares seemed to follow him and Obi-Wan each step they took. "Chosen One" "Sith-Killer" both were unpleasant remnants of a time he would rather not relive, but seemed to have come full circle now.

The Order was in gridlock because of him: his defeat of Palpatine, the great Lord of the Sith had also led to the exposure of his marriage to Padme and her pregnancy, which she was now eight weeks into. The council had, for now, allowed him to stay a full member of the Order as the war began to wind to its close. But there were others, Masters who were staunchly opposed to his staying a Jedi after having so blatantly broken the code. Others, Yoda included, were now petitioning for a change of some of the guidelines that they had lived with for so long. Their refusal to accept love in the first place has almost been their destruction, if the Order was to survive, they saw the need for change. This did not help Anakin in his quest for anonymity.

Layered on top of that, where his fate was hanging in the recourse of diplomatic discussions of an idealistic code, he had been grappling with Obi-Wan's injuries. After their fight with Sidious, the man had not opened his eyes for four days, he was basically Comatose, except Anakin could feel the physical pain the man felt resonating through their force connection. On the fifth day, he had opened his eyes; on the sixth, they had closed again but they had managed to get him stable enough to soak him in a bacta tank for what seemed like forever. The last week had shown little improvement except Anakin had managed, only the day before, to have his first conversation with the man in what seemed like a lifetime.

He had told him, at Obi-Wan's insistence, what the council was debating. He could see in his old master's eyes, the desire to be present, to be fighting, but in his state, it did not seem possible. He had asked of Rex, who was now preparing a group of clones for the seizure of Utapau where some of the remaining Separatist forces were gathered under General Greivous. He had tried to stand, and had made it into a sitting position before tearing one of his only newly healed wounds and collapsing backwards for the blood to soak into the bedsheets.

Anakin stepped through a short hallway, where he could start to hear the roar of the fountains in the meditation area. Even as Jedi were being called back every day, this part of the temple was not busy at this point in the afternoon; there was other business to attend to, missions to be briefed on. Finally, there were no eyes staring at him as he walked quickly towards his destination, wondering what Ahsoka could need.

The Senate was changing. There was a power vacuum, and many were scrambling to fill it. Bail Organa had convinced them to abstain from nominations and votes for Chancellor until Obi-Wan's Senate testimony in two weeks time, in which the full details of the Chancellor's plot would come to life. Anakin had already testified, along with Yoda, Padme, Rex, Master Rancises, Ahsoka, and Master Windu. But for legality, Obi-Wan was a survivor of War Crimes, and his testimony carried far more weight than theirs. Anakin didn't care for it, he thought it cruel that a man who had lived through War Crimes would be forced to re-endure them simply so the Senate could have its proper procedure. Padme came home each night, exhausted and upset by the behavior of the other Senators, none of whom cared for Obi-Wan at the capacity she thought proper.

He pushed through the door to the fountain room. A cool spray of water hit him, and he blinked it away, looking for Ahsoka in the green planes, on one of the benches, or in the white spots of sand that he typically avoided. But he didn't see her. He stepped further in, but she was absent from her favorite spot. He let out a sigh, exasperated that she hadn't had the patience to wait the five minutes on him to get here.

He turned to leave, when out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of someone else, sitting, legs extended and head leaned back on one of the benches.

"I managed to escape." Finally, after so long seeing him only in pain and in suffering, that small, infallible glint of humor had returned to Obi-Wan's voice as he turned his head to Anakin.

* * *

"Welcome back, sister." There was green smoke filling every corner of the room, the low smell of spice and swamp cutting its way through the air to her nostrils. She had been called to return, there were things for her here. "We have been expecting you back for some time."

"I didn't know I was needed, Mother." She wasn't lying. Nothing, until very recently, had informed her of the need to return.

"The traitor, Dooku, is dead." It was a lulling whisper, one that simultaneously made her want to sleep and attack. She stared through the mist, being manipulated by the Dathomirian witches hands. "Along with his Master."

"I had heard this news." She watched the Mother's eyes flare with some emotion, perhaps anger. "I know this is not why I have been called to return."

"No." She spun her hands and the smoke twirled with them. There, in the cauldron that she moved over, was the sound of a hundred whispers, mixing with the smoke, and the sight of a thick, bubbling brew that threatened to overflow but never risked it. "Your destiny has changed, sister. You, who are learned in the dark side of the force."

She felt a prickle along spine, some suspicion of where this was headed, and she, for the first time, wasn't sure if she wanted to follow it. "Though Dooku is dead, this power is not. There is another. Others who can help you on this path to greatness. You, who have been both the sacrifice and savior of our clan." And with that, the smoke cleared completely, only to instantly shroud her completely.

Her view of her surroundings disappeared, her vision muddled, her voice connection fuzzy and evaporate. A clear path but to the cauldron, where she was forced to turn her attention. In the bubbling water, she saw the words of Mother Talzin ring true, shapes flitted back and forth from her vision.

Those who would be her allies: the droid general, she noticed with a flit of disgust, a son of Dathomir, his yellow skin tight around cruel features, and another, his skin red and black and disfigured. Her vision of him came clearest, burned into her mind, making her focus on him. She felt the feeling that now connected them, though now he seemed to be in constant pain, his face drawn into a sort of indistinguishable mask. She could feel the dark side flow though him, feel his power through the vision of the Mother. She found herself being drawn to it, ignoring the brief warning that flitted through her mind at the thought of allowing herself to again be coveted and entrenched by the power he seemed to be expelling.

But even more than that, as she watched his face disfigure from fear and confusion into something far stronger, she felt something else connect them. Through their brief bond, artificial as it was, she could feel the undercurrent of seething hatred that united them, pulling them together despite his distance and unknown identity.

"It is time to begin your real destiny, sister."


	2. Rebirth

The men of Dathomir were easy enough to find: she went under the pretense that she was looking for a mate, the thought alone disgusted her. Her lips curled as she watched them in a line, armed for battlements that would not come. Outsiders feared Dathomir, they were afraid of what they saw as strange customs and magic: Dooku was the only outsider who had ever come of his own accord. Her thoughts turned dark as she thought of her betrayer, and the anger at herself that she had not been the one to end his treacherous life. But, there were more important things to attend to.

She chose them, the ones that she wanted, even though the in back of her mind, she saw clearly the image of the one who would become the victor. He was powerful already, but not the strong image she had been given in her vision. He fought the others off with ease, and she could feel the low hum of the force moving through him. He would, if only he was ready, be perfect for their needs.

"We will help him, Sister." She had returned him to the Mother and the other members of the clan. He had done as he was told, too weak minded to defend against himself, but that made it only easier for her to manipulate him. He did not, as of yet, hold the same cold hatred in her heart as she had felt ruminating from the other one. But as she watched Mother Talzin work her magic, the muscles on his body beginning to bulge, the horns sprouting from his head beginning to elongate. She could feel his aggression through what she knew was the force, a fact of which he remained blissfully ignorant.

When he rose, she could feel his hard stare at her. They had imbued him with loyalty to her, and through the mist that rose around them, she could feel the fierce, unwavering loyalty that he now held in his brain. And the desire, after Talzin had shown him the images, to find the other one. The red man, of which she would use to truly rise to greatness.

"Come, Savage. We have much to do."

"Yes, mistress." And he moved to follow her, brandishing a massive axe that would cleave a human in half if swung hard enough. She smiled, she would have him a lightsaber constructed, but now was not yet the time. She needed him to prove his strength, she needed him to prove his loyalty first.

"Wait, sister." Mother Talzin spoke behind her, and she saw the faces of her sisters staring at her behind their hoods. "Let him prove himself first, show that he has been eliminated of any weaknesses."

It was a wise idea, she knew, and would help her guide him on the path to the darkside. She watched as they brought forth another Son of Dathomir. She remembered him, the brother of Savage, a weak minded, weak bodied male who had little to offer her in terms of companionship.

"Savage?" He seemed confused. "Brother, what's happened?" His voice was weak, almost pleading as he stared up at his brother, so changed by the nightsisters.

"Kill him." The command was simple, but it cut through the unusually quiet swamp like a knife. As did the foreshortened scream that followed the deaf swinging of the ace and the dull thud of the separated pieces of the Dathomirian's body. She could feel the dark side ruminating from him then, and she turned her head, drinking in the feel of power that she had not felt since her old master's betrayal.

* * *

"Obi-Wan, I really think you should return to the Med-Bay." In all honesty, Anakin was overjoyed that Obi-Wan was sitting in the hospital anymore. But since he had found him in the meditation room, they had traveled the many halls of the temples, avoiding any possibility of seeing medics, or Master Yoda who would make him return. He was growing weaker though, walking slower, and Anakin could see the strain on his face as he moved his muscles. "You've only been fully awake for a couple of days."

Obi-Wan gave him a pointed look. "I would think that with someone so accustomed to defying medical advice, you would be sympathetic, Anakin." Anakin had to laugh, Obi-Wan wasn't wrong. But Anakin also knew that Obi-Wan despised going to the med-bay, and had once let himself develop a systemic blood infection before Anakin had dragged him there, delirious with fever after they returned from a mission. "Besides, I haven't been able to stand and walk freely in a long time."

Guilt crept into Anakin's features, and Obi-Wan looked at him strangely before sighing. "It isn't your fault what happened, Anakin. I shouldn't have been careless."

"It's not your fault, either, Obi-Wan." He refused to let his master believe that this was his fault, that he was to blame for his own captivity and suffering. He was angry about the entire situation, the slavers of Zygerria, the horrific cruelty of the Keepers on Kadavo, the unadulterated torture at the hands of Dooku that Obi-Wan had endured. And yet, he knew, that in Obi-Wan's own gently kindness, he would count this as one of his own failures and not the fault of anyone else. It was a maddeningly acute view of the world that Anakin had always seen form his master. It was the behavior of a perfect Jedi, to never pass blame onto others, or the judge their action from a personal view, but one that Anakin had only ever seen exhibited in Obi-Wan and possibly in Master Yoda. It certainly wasn't one that he shared.

Obi-Wan's hand on his shoulder pulled him back from his own intrepid thoughts, "Many lives were saved Anakin, including that of all the slaves on Kadavo, my own, and that of Captain Rex. And now, the greatest threat to the galaxy is no more." He gave Anakin a gentle smile that was laced with the physical pain he was feeling. "I am sorry that it has come at such great cost to you. I am here to support you with whatever you need." He took his hand off Anakin's shoulder for a moment, swayed dangerously, and put it back for balance. "Well, as long as what you need doesn't involve running at the moment."

They both laughed, and Anakin reached out feelers with the force to help support Obi-Wan, gently steering them back towards the med bay. Obi-Wan knew this, but he did not protest any more, leaning heavily on his former apprentice. "I appreciate it, Master. The same is true for you, always."

"Yes, well…" they made it back into the medical complex, Obi-Wan now limping heavily. If his back hadn't been so damaged, Anakin would have looped an arm around him to hold him up. As it was, Anakin's gentle support through the force was the only thing keeping him upright. "I'm afraid my life is not as exciting." He grinned over at Anakin again, who had to smile back. He was of course, referring to his marriage with Padme, a secret affair that had taken place behind the knowledge of the entire council for years. Obi-Wan, clearly, had not done anything of that nature.

"Things change." Anakin said pointedly, as she looked through the glass covering of Obi-Wan's room, and saw a tall, blonde figure waiting on them, reading through his tagged medical information on his bedside. He missed the reunion, however, as three medics came from up the hall, securing Obi-Wan safely back on the bed, giving him an immediate injection into his ribcage of bacta, and Anakin suspected he had been avoiding what was supposed to be a regularly scheduled shot.

He could see Obi-Wan speaking softly to Satine as he laid there, the worry clearly etched across her face; and though both acknowledged him, Obi-Wan with a clear look, and Satine with a small wave, he grinned to himself and decided it was best to leave them to whatever they had to discuss.


	3. Recollect

"General Kenobi, could you explain to us the extent of your knowledge of Chancellor Palpatine's plans? How did oy come by this knowledge?" Anakin despised Senate meetings. He found little value in sitting through endless droning of people who little of what they were talking about, and cared even less about the people it affected. This, however was different. After his escapade of leaving the medical ward unattended, Obi-Wan had successfully gone through two weeks of physical recovery. He had been moved back into his room at the temple, where Anakin often found himself sleeping on the couch after worrying in the early hours of the morning. Padme understood, he sent most of his time with her, but he found it hard to leave Obi-Wan's side for a whole night, the need to keep him safe outweighing most other priorities.

"When I was being held prisoner on Serreno, many of the Sith's intentions were told to me explicitly by Count Dooku…"

The interrogator, a cold, unfeeling being with silver hair and silver eyes to match, regarded Obi-Wan as one might look at a piece of meat, or vegetable. He interrupted him for the fourth time in these proceedings, and Anakin rolled his eyes, but held his tongue as Padme glanced over at him from her pod. "Why would Count Dooku reveal his own plot to destroy the Jedi Order to a Jedi Master?"

"I believe by that point, Dooku had realized his own master was intending to betray him, and also believed I would die quickly. The passing of that information, in his belief, would have been another form of psychological torture."

"Explain."

Anakin had seen Obi-Wan fight, watched him destroy dozens of droids with what seemed like so little effort. But it was here, in a world encapsulated entirely by words, that his Master, the Negotiator, showed his truly impeccable talent. "You have been told of the extent of my physical torture, Senator, by Clone Captain Rex. For Dooku, this was not enough; each time I have seen him, he saw it necessary to try and goad me into some response. Some sort of anger. It is the way of the Sith. Given my connection to my fellow Jedi, telling me of what he saw as their impending doom does not seem to be a far stretch in his goals." Obi-Wan pressed his hands down into his legs, shifting his body upward in his witness seat. Though the motion was executed with the easy grace that the Senator's would see as being held purely for the Jedi to enjoy, Anakin could see the subtle stiffness. Despite his swift recovering pace, Obi-Wan was not fully healed. "He did not outline the finer points of this plan, only the ones he thought would be enough to make me agree that it was infallible, and attempt to help me lose hope."

"Did you lose hope, General Kenobi?" The question was cruel, and had little to do with proceedings. Anakin saw Bail Organa, seated behind his wife stand up to protest, but Obi-Wan rose his hand to stop him.

"Bastard." On his right, Anakin could hear Rex mumbling under his breath. The clone looked normal again, his blonde hair cropped a small scar running up the side of his head where they had removed his tumor the week before.

"If I had lost hope, Senator, then this hearing would not be taking place." The room was silent to hear his words, and the meaning behind them had the questioner scowling as he realized he had backed himself into a corner. To insinuate that Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man loved by so many, even in this room, would lose faith in the Jedi, the force, himself, the others, was almost a form of treason. One that would not be forgiven. "As a Jedi, there is always hope in both the force and other beings. We are all connected through the living force, that much has always been clear. It is not easy to lose faith in something so strongly believed in."

"Did you know the clones were involved in the plot to destroy the Jedi?" The interrogator chose to abandon that line of questioning, in Anakin's, and most others, view, Obi-Wan's integrity was entirely in check. All he had to say was the truth.

"No. Not explicitly at least." The interrogator gave a short smile that was quickly cut back down, "It was heavily implied. He told me that spread across the galaxy, the Jedi would be slaughtered by those they trusted, and that the Sith would rise again with a ready-made army."

"What is your opinion on continued use of the clones, then?"

"You speak of them as though they are tools." Rex stiffened next to him. "They are beings. Able-bodied, and trained soldiers. Capable of every emotion, thought, and skill that you and I are, Senator. They are equally serving of life, and a place in the Republic. Now, they are the soldiers that we have always had, are fighting dutifully to end this war against what remains of the Separatists. With their tumors removed, there is no reason not to trust them."

"It is stated here, that in the incident that resulted in the death of the Chancellor, Count Dooku, and Jedi Master Fisto; you were almost killed by a clone." Rex stiffened again, and Anakin spared a look at him. He looked distraught, the guilt tearing at the corners of his face. Anakin put his metal hand on his shoulder trying to say what Rex did not understand, that Obi-Wan did not blame him for what had happened.

"Actually, Senator, Captain Rex, who held me, defied his programming and refused to kill me. This is after the pair of us spent close to a month in shared captivity in the slave camps of Kadavo and in the war prison on Serreno. "

The questions continued, Rex visibly relaxing next to him, looking at Obi-Wan with the same kind of admiration that he shared for the man. They asked about the supposed changes to the Jedi Code, and the continuing war effort. The Senate went from silence to cheering as Anakin watched them respond to Obi-Wan's answers, each one laced with the quiet resignation of a man who had been through much.

"That is all for today, thank you for your time, General." Obi-Wan stood and bowed respectfully, turning to leave his pod. "Questioning will resume tomorrow."

Anakin saw, to his own amusement, Obi-Wan's shoulders drop the tiniest amount in disappointment, but his face gave nothing away. "Of course, Senator." And then he disappeared, followed by the dispersal of thousands of members of the Senate.

"I don't understand how he does that, Sir." Rex said, as he stood to follow Anakin out. Anakin turned and gave him a hard look, not knowing what exactly his commander was talking about. "Keeps from getting angry like that, I mean."

Thinking back to the questions, how biased and unfair they had been; Anakin realized that he didn't know either. He didn't have a clue, other than what he knew of Obi-Wan's seemingly infinite patience.

"I'm not sure, Rex." The clone nodded, "It's something I think it would be wise to learn."

* * *

He wasn't what she had expected. Frankly, she hadn't known what to expect. A half-bodied, disabled spider-man was not it. His features were twisted with the lines of madness, his face enraged and torn along lines that she didn't understand. He shied away from the pair of them, even as Savage sought to soothe him. He was whispering to himself, or at least, what he thought were whispers. In reality, his harsh sounds reverberated around the cavern they were in, almost endless taunts of horrific madness that cut into her brain as she watched him.

Underneath it, she could feel the thrumming of the dark side of the force coming from him. "Brother, who did this to you?" Savage's harsh voice still grated on her nerves, but she it was the best way to reach him. The appendages of him that were reminiscent of a spider's half crawled him up the wall, twisting him around in a net, and he hung there, the question looking at him like it was almost virulently oppositional to the answer.

Then his lips curled over sharp teeth, his yellow eyes narrowed as he regarded the pair of them. She reached out to him, and watched him react as her own force signature wrapped around his in an almost protective manner. It was not that. It was seductive, curling around his with the intent of drawing him in, not a hard task for one such as herself. Her body was a weapon almost equivalent to the strength of the force within her, men cowered at her feet, or were at least distracted enough. Her own lips upturned at the thought of a certain man, with whom she shared the most particular relationship, being thoroughly distracted by their listless banter as she tried to kill him. She had failed in the past. She would not fail with them at her side.

"Obi. Wan. Kenobi." Each syllable was laced with distaste, hatred, cruel contempt. He spat them out like poison, and she relished in how beautifully this was all going to come together.

"Well, then," She spoke softly. "We have that in common."

And his cold eyes lit up with a dark fire that matched her own.


	4. Return

He felt sick. He felt like he had to lie down, to sit somewhere in the dark where no one could see him. He felt the burning, horrible urge to cry. And yet, he could do none of those things. He watched the Senate meeting unfurl, heard the testimony. He had been through Rex's testimony, he had heard what the clone had said about their time on Kadavo, and then on Serenno. He had thought he would be ready. There was no way to be ready for this.

He had stared straight ahead, even though he could feel Padme's eyes on him the entire time from where she was seated behind Obi-wan. He could the worry emanating off of her, but he could not look at her. Instead, his hands had tightened around the armrest of his chair, as they pulled out of Obi-Wan every anguished detail of what had happened. Some of it triggered the horrible images he had inside of Dooku's mind, the smell of blood and infection when he had pulled him down from the wall, the depravity of seeing Obi-Wan mutilated and injured. There was no peace at this hearing, not until that section was over and the entire Senate sat in corrugated, horrified silence.

The Sith were dead now, but here was living proof of their cruelty, of the pain they were so close to inflicting on the galaxy. He felt Ahsoka hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him, but being honest with himself, Anakin found more comfort in Rex, sitting on his other side, in much the same state. The fact that he wasn't the only one affected this way by the testimony was a sick sort of comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

"The Senate at large has asked me to ask another question of you, Master Kenobi." The interrogator was at it again, drawling heavily his words in the most uninterested tone he could muster. Although Anakin could tell the difference now. The humanity in him had gotten the better of him. The edge of cruelty was gone from his words as he regarded Obi-Wan, whose face was drawn with the memory of his torture.

"I accept the request." He said, leaning back in his chair.

"In regards to the new leadership of the Senate, a new Chancellor is to be nominated. With the recent issues with the selection of a Sith Lord as Chancellor, many felt it was best to involve the wisdom of the Jedi Council." Obi-Wan arched his eyebrows. He had not been able to attend every council meeting as of late, he had spent most of his time back in the hospital, or in recovery. "When this request was made, Grand Master Yoda said that you should speak on behalf of the Council."

Anakin wasn't surprised, and neither, it seemed, were the Senators, who instead of beginning a murmuring, stayed quieter than Anakin had heard them in a long time. The only one who seemed surprised by this news was Obi-Wan, whose eyes widened with shock as he took in the meaning of the words. "Who then, General Kenobi, is your recommendation for nomination for Chancellor?"

The room seemed to hold its breath as Anakin watched Obi-Wan's mind work. Anakin himself had no idea what Obi-Wan would say. His master despised politicians, or, with the first bit of comic relief he'd had all day, as he glanced at the pod that held the Duchess of Mandalore, most politicians. "I would say that in this situation, the corruption of the Sith could run quite deep, Senator. It is operative to chose someone who has opposed the war, and all attempts to advance it, since the beginning."

"And who, in your opinion, do you believe this person to be?"

"There are two that come to mind, really. A Chancellor, and a First Aide to the Chancellor, perhaps."

The interrogator was getting agitated again at Obi-Wan's discrepancy. His voice was slowly hardening, and it was Anakin's new belief that whoever the new Chancellor was, should definitely find someone to replace this man. "Who then, are they?"

"I would think the choice would be obvious." Obi-Wan took in a breath before continuing, and the whole room, full of the most influential beings in the galaxy, seemed to be holding its breath. "the only two I can think of that have consistently argued against all wartime legislation that did not protect the civilians of the Republic and seized planets are Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan." The Senator, seated on the same platform as Senate, seemed to rise in his chair in complete shock as the room's eyes fell on him.

"And Senator Padme Amidala of Naboo."

* * *

Obi-Wan weaved his way through Senators, several of them touching his arm as he passed between them, whispering words of apology or thanks. Others stared coldly at him, as his announcement of whom he thought would best serve as head of the government now came to fruition. Padme had gently gripped his arm, careful not to aggravate his still-healing body, but through her own shock, could think of no words to say to him. He had smiled gently at her, "It is right." And then had disappeared into the hallway behind the Senate Chambers.

He longed for some quiet. He was tired of testifying, his head now was overwhelmed with his own memories. His back was hurting, he could feel where one of his still-slightly open wounds had re-torn, and was bleeding slowly into his bandages. Another thing to fix. He had not been expecting this. He had not expected the Council to pass on such a great task of wisdom to him. He had followed the force, but he knew that the decision he had made had been clear and true. He was honored they thought so highly of him. But he was still startled, and he didn't know how many more surprises he could deal with.

"Obi-Wan!" He heard him name be called, shortly followed by a surge in the force as Anakin came up behind him right as he turned to face him.

"Anakin." And the man fell into step beside him as he gave him a gentle smile, moving towards the turbo-lifts.

"I'm just…well I didn't expect you to nominate Padme." Anakin typically cut right to the chase, and Obi-Wan had to sigh. He didn't know what his apprentice thought, he had hoped he hadn't upset him. He didn't sense any anger, only surprise form the man next to him.

"She and Bail have done an exceptional job consolidating the Republic effort to maintain humanitarian goals. She is strong, and deserving. There is no one better for the job." Anakin was silent, and, in a small undercurrent, Obi-Wan could feel the pride that slowly replaced the surprise, and he had to smile.

"Where are you going now? Did oy want to get food or something?" Anakin finally asked as they stepped d-into a turbo-lift. "Ahsoka could meet us there." It did sound nice, and he didn't want to refuse him when they had gotten to spend so little time together recently, but his back was starting to irritate him further, and tiredness was pulled all the way down to his bones.

"I would, Anakin, but I need some rest." He could feel the small curve of disappointment. "Why don't we go to Dex's tomorrow?" He stepped out of the lift onto his floor, which Anakin lived a few more up. "Padme can come as well." Anakin nodded as the door shut, his lips pulled upwards in a smile. In his room, he practically collapsed, barely having eh energy to pull the bandage off, clean his wound, and replace it, before his bed seemed far to inviting to resist.

He drifted into sleep, his mind swirling with haunting images of Dooku, Palpatine, Anakin, himself…and perhaps most strangely, his old Master, seized in the moments before death. And the dark figure that had haunted Obi-Wan's thoughts ever since then.

* * *

"How will they not know it is us?" She hadn't liked Savage's voice. She despised his brother's. Dooku's voice had always been tinged with cruel arrogance, this was simple rage, twisting his words until each sounded like a command. "Have Kenobi come to us, witch. We had a plan."

"Do not call me that." She spat at him, and he half-growled at her until Savage placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Mistress knows what she is doing, brother." The yellow Dathomirian sat behind them, watching the gleaming of hyperspace in front of them as they approached Coruscant. "They will not find us."

"It is easy to disappear in the Core worlds." And normally that was true. But now, looking over the pair of them, monstrous, Maul's new legs clanking against everything they touched, she had her doubts of their anonymity. She would have to, as always, believe in their own abilities to keep them successful. "We will have help this way. Obi-Wan Kenobi will not come to us, his precious temple is loath to let him leave at the moment after Dooku almost killed him. We need surprise on our side."

Maul was contemptuous, but no longer spoke, instead choosing to levitate a metal sphere in his clawed fingers before crushing and deforming it in his fist.

"Besides…" The planet came into view as they pulled out of hyperspace, beginning their descent. "Kenobi's precious Order is here, to harm them is to harm him. He will not let them die for him." He seemed intrigued by her words now, his fingers on his own foreshortened lightsaber. "And," She thought of all she knew now of the political unrest and fear on Coruscant as the war was coming to its close. "Here, we will have the help we need."

 


	5. Reconvene

The girl was easy enough to find. She had seen her on missions, and here, in the Coruscant underbelly, she could move about undetected, her name on her lips, and information never too far out of hand. Maul and Savage were elsewhere in the city, rallying arms, finding other people. She had admonished that they might be useful after all, the older of the two being exceptionally powerful and trained in the ways of the force. They could be brilliant. But they had to understand the extent that this was her fight. And her fight alone.

The Mother had told her of the girl's misgivings. Even now, the threat of Dooku and Palpatine gone, the Separatist army remained strong. Greivous still led them with his powerful, unyielding hatred of the Jedi. She would go to him soon, it had all been foretold. But the Jedi had to be distracted. Dissension among their ranks was almost unheard of, but this girl, this Padawan learner was going to be perfect for that little detail.

She would distract them, damage them. Bring to light the foul consequences these keepers of peace had for being in this war; and then, she could bring them to their knees. The Jedi were strong. The dark side was stronger.

"She's right over there." An ugly being, his face twisted with scars, gestured wildly to a far corner of the bar, a thin, hooded figure seated alone. She made her way over to her, pressing a few credits into the being's palm, feeling his eyes follow her with the same sort of disgusting longing she had come to expect from males of all species.

"I don't understand what you want." She wondered, only for a fleeting moment, if she had made a mistake; this Padawan was hardly more than a child, barely old enough to be in a place such as this. But she could feel, underlying all of that demeanor, a pulsing strength. A tendency towards chaos.

"You disagree with the Jedi involvement of the war." She had kept her face covered, but the Padawan startled at her voice. She felt a prick of uncertainty, of recognition; her hands went to her sabers, but she was sure she wouldn't need them. "They have gone from monks to soldiers."

"Many people have been needlessly killed. Our code is to protect, not to destroy." She answered, reluctance evident.

"They don't listen." And she felt the start, reaching out with her force signature to almost wraparound the pair of them. "Why would they listen to you, you're only an apprentice?"

"Not for much longer." She snapped back, struggling to control her anger. This was falling into place far too easily.

"If you think they listen to Knights, you're wrong again. Tey don't even listen to Masters." She let that settle between them. "Look at Skywalker. They've basically ostracized him for bothering to have a life. Kenobi almost died protecting them, and they still want o expel his apprentice. Meanwhile, they continue on their murderous rampages across the galaxy. Many have died." She paused again, watching the girl take a sip of her drink. "But it doesn't have to be this way. Make them pay attention."

The noise of the bar seemed to hit a low point on its cycle, and neither spoke. She watched, through pursed lips, the last of the neon drink disappear. The chatter reanimated itself, some sports match on the holo-screen showing large and loud.

"What would you have me do?"

* * *

Anakin stepped quickly through the halls of the temple, weaving around Jedi Knights, Padawans, and Masters to get to Obi-Wan's room. They usually gave him a wide berth, today was no different. Ever since Padme, his "secret" wife, had been nominated officially for First Aide to the Supreme Chancellor, he had gotten no peace. Reporters followed him through the markets, Jedi badgered him with questions in the mess hall, other Senators openly glared or clapped his back in support when he walked by them. He was tired of it.

There were few places to find peace. His and Padme's apartment, not an option in the middle of the day; his own room at the temple which was feeling more and more and more stuffy; Ahsoka's room, but she was out that day, doing something with Barriss. So, this was his last oasis.

He didn't bother knocking, he couldn't remember a single time since he and Obi-Wan had first lived in this room together that he had knocked before coming in. It led to the kitchen they used to share, currently empty. He let out a sigh, that meant Obi-Wan must be elsewhere in the apartment, he could feel his force signature pulsing. But that didn't stop him from first reaching for a bottle of water from the fridge, taking time to drink it slowly.

So much had changed. In the week following Obi-Wan's testimony, his status as a Jedi had been secured. They were drafting an amendment to the code, which he had to be present to testify for. Obi-Wan was as well, a code that would allow for codified marriages, children, love within reasonable bounds. It was going as well as it could, there was so much resistance, Anakin sometimes though the only thing keeping the council together was their calm respect for Master Yoda's authority and their shared respect at Obi-Wan's recent sacrifice.

He needed to talk to Obi-Wan. To talk to someone about everything that had been happening, his oldest friend was the only logical choice. He took his water and went down the hall to the living room. He noticed though, soft voices coming from the living room. One was Obi-Wan's, the other he recognized, but couldn't place. Perhaps he was comming someone.

"I thought you said this had stopped, Obi-Wan." He heard the voice, not over the crackle of the hologram, but an actual, present voice, and paused.

"I thought it had." He could hear the humor in Obi-Wan's voice, followed by an uncomfortable sounding groan. "Thank you for helping me."

"Perhaps you should go to the healers." Anakin took two more steps forward, leaning into the doorway to observe the scene in front of him.

"I really don't think that's necessary." Obi-Wan had his shirt and undershirt pulled over his head, still wrapped around his arms. A long, thin cut that must have been incredibly deep when he first received it, was seeping small amounts of blood. It had been a month since his return, this sort of thing was supposed to have stopped by now. But, almost more interesting than that was Satine, holding a damp, bacta-soaked rag in her hand, wiping gently at the cut.

What the Duchess had been doing over here to start with, Anakin could only guess. She wasn't adorned with her usual attire, her hair instead hung loosely in a blue clip and wrap, dressed in a simple blue dress that gave away nothing of her noble status. Anakin, though he was worried about Obi-Wan's continued cut, couldn't help but smirk at his old master's choice in company.

"She might be right, Obi-Wan." He said casually, and both startled, then turned to look at him. Obi-Wan must have been very distracted if he hadn't noticed Anakin's force presence, and other thoughts entertained Anakin's head. Although, the amendment to the code was still in its infancy, allowing for attachments was likely to pass. Until then, he knew Obi-Wan well enough that he wouldn't do anything outside what he saw as the rigid bounds of the code.

"Hello, Anakin." Obi-Wan said sheepishly. "Satine's helping me. I seem to have had an incident." The Duchess continued her task, rolling her eyes at Obi-Wan as she worked.

"Well, I suppose someone must since you refuse to go to the medical bay." She said pointedly. Before Anakin could make a reply, sarcastic or otherwise, the ground below him shook.

In fact, the whole building shook. He braced himself against the doorframe as it moved more and more erratically. He hard, faintly, an explosion. He felt in his heart a horrible tug like he had felt on Geonosis all those years ago. Something had happened here.

Jedi were dead.

 


	6. Recapture

Yoda felt the long ripples in the force, the moments of shock, the lingering bits of terror, then nothing. Except pain, which pulsed like it was a living being. He rose quickly, climbing into his moving chair in order to make himself move more quickly. He could sense Master Windu doing the same, only farther up the hall. He was not sure what had happened, the pieces were not coming together as they should.

"Master Yoda!" Mace rounded the corner that separated them, and extended his arm in invitation. Yoda climbed onto his shoulders, and the much larger Jedi began to run them both towards the site of the explosion. He knew that death awaited them there, but the extent of it, he was unsure. What damage had been done? Who had been hurt?

And, beyond that, he could not help but feel a prickle of something else in his mind. He closed his eyes, head against Mace's shoulder, and tried simply to feel in the force. There was more than this explosion. Jedi had been killed, but there was a different target here. He could feel, through his acute connection, the dark side of the force pulsing around him.

* * *

Ahsoka pushed through the lingering smoke, aiding in the recovery of the dying and wounded from the explosion. Someone had set off a bomb in the hangar, she shuddered in revulsion as she avoiding stepping on what looked like the mangled remains of hand in order to pull a maintenance worker from a crashed stack of debris. "Bless you, child!" It was the old man whom she had seen here all of her life, not strong enough to move himself, but other than a large cut on his chest, did not look too injured. Not compared to the rest of them. She hauled him to his feet, whispering a "You're welcome," to him as she passed him on to the medics.

She could sense something. She was a senior Padawan, on the verge of becoming a Jedi Knight, her sense were acute Not as quick as Anakin's, not as consistent as Obi-Wan's, but still strong, still resonant. And here, she could feel the underlying darkness. It was not the same as what she had felt when they were on Serenno, where Count Dooku had pulsed with the cruel power of the dark side. It was more of a watered-down version of that, less consistent, it didn't feel as strong.

"Ahsoka!" Her master's voice called to her, and she looked up to see him, Obi-Wan, and Satine Kryze coming into the hangar. "What's happened?"

"Someone set off a bomb, Master," she explained, as he came to join her in moving larger pieces of metal to check for survivors underneath. "Several Jedi and workers have been killed." She felt her own voice choking up at it, she had seen Jedi, such as Master Peay, pass into the force. But this had been different. Through their shared bond, she had felt their pain, their terror, and then the shared silence that she had come to recognize as death. She shuddered at the memory. "There's something else, though…I can sense something."

"It is a dark time, Ahsoka." He wasn't dismissing her, for surely if he could feel it, he could sense it as well. She nodded though, choosing to stay focused on the task at hand. After the pair of them had moved three more bodies, two killed workers, one still-breathing Padawan; her unease grew. She glanced up in time to see a hooded figure, lithe and rapturous, through the thick plumes of smoke that came from the part of the building near the fuel cells.

She shook her head, trying to think who that could be. Why would they be hooded? She looked around the room, Satine was helping to tend to the wounded, the normally formal looking Duchess dressed in her fine robes, wiping blood and soot and applying bacta as baseline medical care as the medics began to move people. Obi-Wan was doing the same as she and Anakin, though she wasn't sure he should be doing that at all, not in the state he had so recently been in. She knew there would be not stopping him though.

She shook her head and went back to work, watching as Obi-Wan moved back towards the plumes of smoke, covering his face with a dampened rag to aid in his breathing, as she and Anakin moved the last part of a star cruiser to expose a woman who had managed to squeeze into a small compartment, and was miraculously unscathed.

"It's okay. We're here to help you." Ahsoka took her hand, helping to steady her, and began to walk her over to the medic bay, deciding it was far better to be safe and have her checked. Then she felt it again, a pulse of shock, of panic, then nothing.

"Anakin!" But her master was fine, looking up just as startled as she was, looking around wildly.

"This way, Savage." It was low, rasping voice. One she was familiar with and sent chills through her body at the same time. It was the hooded figure, thin and athletic. It, she, Ventress, came out of the smoke, running towards the hole that had been blown in the side of the hangar. She teetered on the edge, despite Anakin charging towards her.

"You'll pay for this, Ventress!"

"I didn't do this, Skywalker. I had other things in mind." Following her from the smoke, a huge, lumbering figure came forward. If not for her Jedi training, Ahsoka would have frozen in horror at the sight of him. He was huge, a hideous shade of yellow, huge horns twisting from his head; a dark shape, a human figure was cast over his shoulder. He pulsed, like Ventress did, with the dark side of the force. Ahsoka realized, a second too late, that they were not weaker than Dooku in the force, they were simply trying to hide it.

'No!" Anakin was screaming, Ahsoka running to help him, even as the pair lept over the edge of the hole and she heard a thud as they landed on a speeder that had been waiting on them which pulled into the messes of the Coruscanti airspace. She watched her Master, lightsaber still drawn, sink to his knees on the floor and let out a painful, twisted sob of loss.

 


	7. Reunion

Maul really couldn't believe their luck. It was almost exquisite, what the witch and his brother had managed. To capture a Jedi, right from their own temple, to leave the death and destruction of others in their wake, to know that one of the Jedi had turned on the others. It was more of a rush than he had felt in years.

He knew they would be coming for them soon, they had almost let Kenobi die once, but with the war waning, they would be able to come for the Jedi, now strewn across the backseat, body hidden under a sheet, entirely unconscious. "The injection will keep him out until we get to the ship, but not for much longer." He heard the witch's hiss in his ear, and his nerves twinged. He disliked her, but he had to admit, her cunning, using the girl to infiltrate the temple in the first place, had been a stroke of brilliance. And the inoculation, whatever Savage had injected into Kenobi's neck to get him to collapse so fully, with no warning; she had proven herself at least useful. But useful people often wore themselves thin, and his patience with her was tested enough as it was.

"We can't fly much faster. They will notice something amiss." He had no doubts that the Jedi were already following them. Skywalker especially. He had heard the noise torn from the man's throat, as Savage had leapt over the edge with his Master. Ventress had told him of the pair, the thought of the two of them, leaping around on missions like a pair of rogue vigilantes while he had lived in such suffering was more than infuriating. The more glances he spared at Kenobi's covered body, the more his body burned with the urge to snap the man's neck, thrust an almost clawed hand into his chest and crush his sternum, hear him scream with pain and suffering in the same way he had been forced to do for years. But there would be time for that. When they were off this godforsaken planet.

When he landed, he heard the red guard alerts begin, but they were all three covered almost completely now. Savage carried Kenobi as one might carry a sack of vegetables, and they boarded a waiting ship, himself and the witch taking the pilot's command while the other Dathomirian began to fasten the unconscious Jedi in the ship's hold.

"Kenobi is weak from Dooku's torture." The witch hissed in his ear, helping him maneuver through the clogged airspace as they attempted to move into the hyperspace lanes. People were making way for the Senate scanner ships, this quadrant of the city on high alert, but, with a little persuasion of the engine, he moved them into the upper levels.

"Kenobi has always been weak." He spat the name like it was a distasteful poison, and he could feel the sneer on her face as she looked over at him, shifting the compressor to move them through the atmosphere.

"Strange words from a man he dismembered." Her words were harsh knives to him, and he bared his teeth. She didn't react, merely kept her eyes on the view screen, operating her controls as they were necessary. "And from one who did not have to capture him."

He could hardly hold his tongue, whipping his head around to shout some acerbic sentiment at her, but she was gone before the words could fall from his lips, her lithe form disappearing back into the hull of the ship where his brother waited with his enemy.

* * *

It was such an odd feeling, in his mind, to wake where you were not used to. Especially when you had not fallen asleep there. Or fallen asleep at all.

He was conscious of a small prick on his neck, maybe a single spot of blood there, but the cloud that was keeping his eyes shut too strong to let him investigate further. He relied instead on the force, and he could feel himself surrounded by it. Pulsing, almost violent, the dark side of the force was surging around him in waves and curves that pulled him closer and closer to some shadow of pain and recognition.

"He is waking up, mistress." It was a deep, resonant voice. Unfamiliar to him.

"I'm sure he will have something to say, Savage. Kenobi never was one to be quiet." Ventress. The last he had seen of her, she had been rejected by Dooku, attempted to kill both him and Anakin, then disappeared into what he had assumed was oblivion. "Although he should learn to hold his tongue."

He fought to open his eyes, his muscles relenting enough to give him a small window, where they couldn't tell he was awake. She was easy enough to see, her incredibly pale skin contrasting against the black outfit she was wearing. Not her usual garb, more leather, perhaps, almost impossibly, tighter fitting than the dress she had worn as Dooku's counterpart. The deep voice must have belonged to the figure in front of him, standing slightly behind her.

He was almost shocked enough to start violently and betray his wakening. This man must be of the same species as Maul, the horrible memories of the Dathomirian who had killed his master coming to fruition in his mind. His recent dreams, what he had thought were only nightmares form the pain and medicine after his stay with Dooku, seemed to be coming true. This male was yellow, his horns exceptionally elongated, his eyes cold.

Without warning, Ventress' hand came across his face, and he blinked from the pain and shock of it. "You can't pretend, Kenobi. Your force signature betrays you, Jedi." He bit back a reply, his jaw stiffening from what would be a bruise from the slap.

"Ventress." He said simply, and then regarded Savage. "You have a friend." But the force was warning him, there was another being aboard. Stronger in the force, than this one. More trained, more resolute. Obi-Wan could feel anger, untampered loathing, a chill ran up his spine, but he contained the shudder that ran through him. This was too familiar, the force was trying desperately to warn him, it was making his head throb against his skull.

"More than one. And they're so happy to see you." She said, smiling at him, which could not be a good sign. Obi-Wan held her gaze, trying to keep his voice level.

"I suppose you are responsible for the bombing at the temple." His memory was slowly returning, although how he had ended up here, he was still unsure of. "A little out of your comfort zone, Ventress. You don't usually enjoy the spotlight."

"Go and get him. Pilot the ship yourself." The yellow Dathomirian, Savage she had called him, disappeared. "I wish I had bombed your precious temple, Kenobi; but I'm afraid I can't take credit for that."

The cockpit door slid open, and Obi-Wan turned his head, resisting the urge to tremble terribly as the force surged through him again, screaming at every instinct he had to try and get away from this. He fought it, refusing to give in to the fear that was pressing around this.

"Obi-Wan." He realized he had never heard him speak. But now it was slow, fraught with every bit of loathing he could feel radiating through the force. "Kenobi." He regarded this man, every piece falling into horrible place The feeling of his own failure overwhelmed him. "I've been waiting a long time for this."

And Darth Maul, what he had thought was a long dead Lord of the Sith, came closer to him. Bare chested, a pair of metal legs whose tips dug into the durasteel floor of the ship and crushed the metal below them, a single bladed lightsaber hooked on his hip, smirked as he came closer.

 


	8. Reappearance

"Can I ask where we are?" Obi-Wan's voice was muffled, they had pulled a rough pouch over his head, the fabric smelled of dried blood, which didn't bode well for what was coming. But he did his best not to focus on it. They couldn't be too far from Coruscant, Maul and Ventress must have had something specific in mind, that thought, moreso than the inevitable impending torture, worried him.

"Quiet, Jedi." Savage, who Obi-Wan knew was in charge of moving him, said from behind him. He could feel, again the side of his tunic, the Dathomirians lightsaber handle, ready at a moment's notice to run him through.

"We're not the only enemies you have in this galaxy, Obi-Wan Kenobi." Maul spoke then, in front of him. He stumbled, having lodged his foot on a rock, but tried to quickly regain his footing. "We brought you here as proof of our abilities. This planet will soon fall, and we will be here to pick up the pieces."'''

"And you think that no one will try and stop this plan? That seems foolish, I thought you were above that." The force warned him about the blow, but the way he was tied, he couldn't move to avoid it. He landed hard on his shoulder as a hand cracked across his face, larger than Ventress', a claw making a small tear under his right eye, through the sack and into the skin. He bit back against the pain, feeling the pulling of his scar tissue, and stilled the gasp in his throat as the same hand bunched around the front of his tunic, lifting him clear off the ground.

"I would say you're making things worse for yourself, Kenobi; but there is nothing worse than what I have planned for you." Maul's face was close, so close to his own that he could smell the sour tang of his breath. He repressed a small shudder, his body, still in recovery, was protesting this rough treatment and the force was crying out a warning. It was throbbing in his head, his veins, to run. But also that something dark, horrid, and reproachful was coming his way. The hand left his tunic, and to his surprise, the sack came off of his head, dim light coming around him.

Without warning, his legs were knocked out form under him, forcing him to his knees, and Maul's clawed fingers came around his jawline. "Well, Master Kenobi. It has been a long time." A dark shape came over to him, a familiar face flanked by Ventress who hung back with a smirk on her cruel face. "I'm glad you'll be here to witness what is soon to be New Mandalore."

* * *

"Master, you have to calm down." Anakin could hear Ahsoka, but he wasn't listening. He was wringing his hands through his hair, pacing outside of the Senate chambers. This could not have happened. Not again, not after they had come so far. Horrible memories were coming back to him, when he had been only a Padawan and Obi-Wan had been taken by Ventress on Jabiim. She had tried her best to break him, in mind, in spirit, in body; but she had not managed it. Then, they had known what they were facing. Ventress has been no match for him then, but now she was not along. And they were blind.

"Skywalker." Windu was calling for him, and he entered the council chamber, where a ring od Jedi masters were staring at him.

"Wounded, this Order is. Who is responsible for this bombing must be caught." Yoda was mid-sentence.

"With all due respect, Master Yoda…" He could feel the fury, the ignoring of Obi-Wan rising up in his chest. But the small Master waved his hand to stop any outburst.

"In more pressing danger, Master Kenobi is. Prepared, we are, to find him." Anakin nodded, his anger sated.

"We don't know where Ventress would have taken him. Her old fortress on Rattatak has been destroyed, there have been no alerts of ships entering the Citadel. Obi-Wan is not in a Republic system, or we would know."

"What about a Separatist controlled system?" With the death of Count Dooku, most of the systems that had seceded has since returned to the Republic. Only a few, in the Outer Rim, controlled by General Grievous, still remained loyal to their cause.

"One of the former Seperatist's, Senator Bonteri, has agreed to provide us with any information. At this point, no one matching the description of Ventress, Obi-Wan, or the other being you saw carrying Master Kenobi away."

"There has to be a third." Anakin said, a thought coming to him.

"What do you mean?" Master Mundi inquired, leaning forward in his council seat.

"There has to be at least one other. Someone had that speeder ready. This was a planned invasion, Masters, in conjunction with the bombing. They must have a specific location in mind to take him as well. How well have we tracked Grievous' movements? We know his motivation is hatred for the Order, it only makes sense that he would be involved. He also hates Obi-Wan, which is an added bonus."

"We agree that Grievous' involvement is likely. But he is not harboring them."

"How do we know that for sure?"

"Grievous is moving his forces out as we speak. He has already left the Utapau system and is instead headed for the mid-rim, we assume to meet with back-up Separatist forces to maintain their armies. The only information we have is that he received a request two days ago, and has gathered his forces for a departure."

Anakin stood for a long moment, and couldn't keep his eyes from wondering to Obi-Wan's chair, which he had only recently been able to sit in again. He tried to calm his racing thoughts, trying to fit together pieces that just seemed not to fit.

"Something else, there is." Yoda spoke again, and Anakin's gaze swept the room, every master's eyes following him. "Right, you are, young Skywalker, about a third being involved. Not a new presence this is, believe to be dead, this being was." Anakin felt the prickling of his spine, reality coming to him sharply and with clear contrast. The was this other being had looked, the large, yellow male; could not be a coincidence. More memories, these of his later childhood, when he had just started his life as Jedi, the last time he had seen Qui-Gon alive.

"Darth Maul." He said softly, and the familiarity he had felt at Obi-Wan's capture was even more gut-wrenching.

"Believe, we do, that Darth Maul has taken Master Kenobi for revenge."

There was silence in the chamber, all of those Master gathered, both in reality and in holographic form were waiting on Anakin's reaction. So much had been happening as of late, the amendment to the code, his marriage, Padme's death; and still, they were waiting on his reaction to this. He wanted to laugh. That's what he really wanted. To laugh at how absurd this was, that the Lord of the Sith was finally defeated and now they had to deal with the apprentice they believed to be killed. But he couldn't do that. Not when he knew what it meant for Obi-Wan, what kind of hatred that Maul must have built up over the years doing whatever he could have to have survived with his injuries. Instead he swallowed.

"That doesn't get us any closer to finding him, Master." He said finally, deciding that moving forward, past his painful memories of Qui-Gon and of Obi-Wan and of Darth Maul was best. Lingering on them would not help, not now.

And they nodded in solemn agreement, Mace Windu pressing his forehead into his hands.


	9. Chapter 9

"Grievous has made contact, his forces will be arriving at midday tomorrow." Ventress said, to the backs of Viszla and Maul, who stood side by side at the front of the tent. Savage stood to the side of her, arms crossed over his large chest; lightsaber dangling at his side.

"With the recording I have sent to the Jedi, they should be here shortly after. Our timing will be perfect; we will crush them." Maul rasped, and turned to face her, a cold smile on his cruel face. She cocked her head, and smiled. "They will come for Kenobi. They expect Deathwatch, they do not expect Separatist forces. Their own arrogance will destroy them as it should have long ago."

"Where is Kenobi?"

"He is occupied." Vizsla laughed, and Ventress felt compelled to smack the smirk off his face. She was beginning to despise her comrades, but knew that in the end, it would be worth it. She would be a Lady of Darkness, a resurgence of the Sith would come at her hand. If she had to deal with this fools, she supposed it would be more than worth it. She rested her hands on the hilts of her lightsabers, and Vizsla stopped his laughter to give her an uneasy chuckle and stare. The one thing she could say to Vizsla's credit; his hatred for Kenobi ran deep, not as deep as Maul's, but deep enough to make him easy to manipulate. He was playing a game he had no chance of winning, but remained blissfully unaware of his own impending doom. They could use him, then he was easily disposed of.

"Take me to him." She snarled at the man, who looked taken aback. He opened his thin mouth to argue, but Maul curled a hand on the man's shoulder. She looked at his fingers, and though it might have been the dim light of the core tent, she thought she could see red on the ends of his claw like fingernails. She smiled seductively at Vizsla, who after a glance at Maul, nodded and began to lead her from the tent.

"The Jedi's influence of Mandalore will end soon. The Duchess will come back for Kenobi, and then she will be ours." He said, looking straight ahead. She instead looked at his armor, the indication of an old warrior clan; it was a pity to see such a man before her in the armor when she could destroy him so easily. But as for now, he was still valuable.

"Tell me, Vizsla; what is their connection?" She gave him the faintest touch on his arm, and he looked at her, surprised but his gaze hinting slightly with longing. Men, specifically human men, were so easy to manipulate. As she began his story, she listened; but listened harder to the war camp around her. These people were ripe for revival, they were strong and virile. With a strong enough leaders, the power of the force, they could be brilliant. She kept a gaze on him, occasionally letting her nails draw over the tiny spots of exposed skin, learning what might be the great downfall of oldest enemy.

* * *

"Greetings, Jedi Council, my name is Pre Vizsla. I am the leader of the Death Watch Clan of the Mandalore system." Anakin watched the small hologram spring to life in the War Room. The whole room seemed to freeze, all of the masters present stopping to look, event eh protocol droids pausing.

"How did they override the security?" He heard Master Mundi exclaim, followed by a wave for silence form Master Windu.

"I understand if you are confused why I am contacting you, but you see, I have something of yours." The blue man, now projecting the scenery around him as well, came into clearer view.

"Go and get the Duchess Satine." Anakin gripped a protocol droid on the arm, directing it to the hallway. Windu sparred him a hard glance, but there had been a moment of silence in the projection.

"Your security is typical of that of the Senate, though I do apologize for intruding. It was only too easy." Anakin tried to do as Obi-Wan had always taught him, and absorb the importance of the surroundings that blurred behind the man. It looked like a forsaken village, perhaps a camp. There were mottled buildings, half-furnished tents, lingering fires in the background. The man was dressed as Jango Fett had been on Geonosis, in old warrior clan armor. It couldn't be a good sign.

"We are stationed on Cordelia, and I, like the other members of my clan, intend to restore Mandalore to its former glory as the great power we once were." He stopped walking in front of an oddly shaped building, dilapidated to an extent, but Anakin could see, even in the blurriness of the hologram, the strong frame it was built upon. "I am not sending this to bargain. I am not sending this to negotiate with you. I know that the current Mandalorian ruler, recognized by the people, is under your protection."

He stopped speaking and turned away, right as the Duchess came in through the doorway, physically recoiling at the sight of Vizsla on the screen. "I want her here. Tomorrow. To sign over the rule of Mandalore to me and the other members of my clan." Satine was already shaking her head in disagreement, and Anakin noticed Padme enter into the chamber as well. This was adding another hellacious layer to his already strung-out day. They were no closer to finding Obi-Wan, and he knew, looking at this man on the screen, if they sent Satine to Mandalore alone, she would be killed.

"I know she will object to this. We have prepared for that and are willing to make a trade."

"I will not negotiate the peace of my planet." He heard the Duchess whisper, and she admired his resolve. But Vizsla's image had opened the door wide, and behind him now on the screen Anakin could see moving shapes, strange images without the clarity of actual vision.

"We have two things which we feel she might be willing to trade for." IT took a moment for what was behind him to materialize, but with a jolt, Anakin realized it was Korkie Kryze. His mouth was bound by a gag, his arms fastened behind his back. His eyes were wide with what was most likely anger or fear, but he did not look hurt.

"No!" Satine said, this time out loud.

"Cadet Kryze remains uninjured, and if the Duchess agrees to our plan, he will be released as such." Vizsla started again and the young man's eyes narrowed severely at him. From what Anakin knew of him, he doubted Korkie had gone quietly, though it didn't seem as though Vizsla was lying. There were no outward signs of injury, nothing permanent, no blood either. He was, at least for now, safe.

"The other thing in our possession I think bears more interest for your Jedi Council. We are fully expecting you to arrive as well, bring your precious clones and lightsabers, we will be ready for you." He was sneering now, but the viewscreen had changed angles. As Vizsla went on, going through what Anakin could tell were coordinates that droids and Jedi alike were scrambling to record, instructions and demands that were met easily enough, revolving around times and movements.

But Anakin was looking behind him. His Master, stolen only the day before from right under him, hung suspended. His hands were cuffed together, all of his weight bearing on them. Maybe some part of Anakin hoped that he would be like Korkie, his presence enough to bring the Jedi, but that was not the case. His mind flashed through the conversation within council chambers earlier that morning. Ventress, Maul, Vizsla. Some much hatred for Obi-Wan. So much rancor he could feel pulsing in the force. And now, he could feel pain.

They hadn't given him suppressants as Dooku had, his force connection was free, but he was drugged to immobility. Anakin tried to connect with him, to show him what they knew, and his old master let him in. But there was no communicating. Only pain, waves, flashes, crests of agony that threatened to split open his skin. He looked, willing his eyes to be lying, but knew they weren't. He could feel the marks on his own body, how they got there on his own skin.

The claws that cut eight paths in an X across his back. The knife that sliced through the soft, already scarred tissue of his ribs. The burns that came at the end of red saber. The hits to his face, the blood that was dripping slowly past his lips as he had bitten through the inside of his cheek. The crushed wrist that now had to support his weight. He gasped, almost falling. And, even though it tore his heart, feeling like abandonment, he had to pull back. He could not bear that pain, not this time.

Yoda's eyes were on him, not the transmission, as it finished. "We expect you Jedi. But be warned, Deathwatch does not back down from a fight." And it was gone as suddenly as it had come.

He felt Padme's hands on his arm and back. "Anakin…" She said, but he didn't look at her, he looked past her at Yoda.

"We have to go." He would lead the charge, that much he resolved to himself. It would be easy enough, to take on a clan of outdated warriors; he knew his battalion was more than Deathwatch could handle.

"And go, we will." Yoda nodded. "Oversee preparations, we must." And the Masters departed, followed by Padme, who whispered something about making the call for ships in the Senate. Only Satine remained, her face even paler than usual, her fingertips pressed lightly to the view screen that now only showed battlemaps: not her nephew, not Obi-Wan.

"We will find them, Duchess." She blinked at him, her pale eyes clear.

"I have faith in the Jedi, Master Skywalker." She said slowly, "I only fear that there is something we are missing."


	10. Recoil

He let out a hacking cough, the air of Mandalore too strong for his manufactured lungs. He felt the unconscious movement of his droid commander away from him, resisting the urge to cleave the useless machine in half with one of his lightsaber blades. He watched the skyline, seeing only a faint mark of Republic ships coming down through the atmosphere.

He had done as the witch requested: his forces, the majority of them, were here behind him; fully charged and ready for combat. He grasped at two of the sabers had had clipped to his metal casing, curling and uncurling his spiked fingers. He had never been one for his patience. His droids were not the only warriors here, Deathwatch forces, clad in Mandalorian Iron armor stood around him. It made him uneasy, it was one of the few metals resistant to lightsabers. Not fully resistant, but enough to cause problems. He supposed that if it came to it, he could simply crush the life from them. As he would do to the Jedi.

The war was lost. Those who denied it, the droid manufacturers in the Outer Rim, were fools. But his own war was not done. Dooku's plan had failed, his action with the Clone troopers had been discovered and the Order saved from his plot. Grievous extracted his blades as the ships came into the landing zone, still not having noticed the hidden troops; and thought how he would have liked to have added Dooku's curved blade to his collection. For his cruelty, for his pain. But even that honor had been taken from him; this would have to suffice. He would destroy the Jedi, piece by piece, until not even their precious honor remained.

"Do not move until I give the command." He wheezed, hacking again as a breeze blew past them, some thick scent billowing on the air.

"I do not take order from you, droid." Yes, he thought, he could crush Mandalorian iron quite well as the soldiers chest plate began twisting under his fingers, the man sputtering for breath.

"You will do well to listen to your superiors, soldier." He spat, hacking another cough in the man's face before releasing him, where he scrambled backwards on the ground back into his position, his body language struck with terror. He wheezed out a laugh, he couldn't care less about this soldier who had the audacity to assume he had value. He thought of Kenobi; he had received Ventress' transmission the day before, but he had to see the General for himself.

He had laughed then; so long he had wanted the man in his captivity, so long he had longed to see the life slowly leaving the smug Jedi's eyes. And now, it seemed, it would happen. The transmission had not done them justice, amidst the operation to prepare for this invasion; the former Sith, Maul, had spent some quality time with Kenobi, it seemed. The Jedi was covered not with simply cuts, like the claw marks that crisscrossed his chest and back, but burns that seemed to decorate each of his joints. His throat was purple and red from where he'd been choked, every finger and the wrist of one hand that suspended him snapped and useless. He had laughed, before twisting his own cuts into Kenobi' skin, kicking him in the dead center of his chest where he had huffed in pain as the points dug into the already abused flesh, but hadn't managed to pull himself from unconsciousness.

He watched the first landing made, seeing Skywalker's 501st insignia emblazed on the side. There would be more time for tormenting Kenobi later, when he could make Skywalker watch.

* * *

Ahsoka stood beside Master Adi Gallia, the Jedi Master's gaze in focus as they watched Anakin pilot the ship into its landing position. The woman's face was contorted strangely, as though she was experiencing something almost physically painful. "Are you alright, Master Gallia?"

To her surprise, it was a small sigh that greeted her words, laced with grief. "I am fine, young one. I fear for Master Kenobi." Ahsoka felt with the force, realizing that her Master and Master Gallia' signatures were emanating the same strange resonance; she reached beyond that, trying to extend to the rest of the planet. She could feel Ventress, very faintly; the dark side, and there, buried underneath it, terrible pain. When it hit her, she jerked forward, gasping herself; and felt Master Gallia's touch on her shoulder. A surprising gesture from one of the most reserved members of the council. "At least we know they have not cut his connection from the force."

Ahsoka tried to take comfort in that, but now that she had tapped into Obi-Wan, she couldn't shake it from her head. All that existed seemed to be pain and suffering and an almost indescribably lonely agony. How did they bear it? A look at her own Master told her the answer was not as well as they seemed to.

"I will approach them first." Satine spoke from behind them, stepping in to stand where they could see her.

"We have strong reason to believe, your Highness, that a former Sith Lord is here. We know that Asajj Ventress is here; you will need Jedi accompaniment."

"By law, Master Gallia, they will have no control of Mandalore until I sign over my rule or abdicate in favor of a specific successor. I have no intention of doing either, an escort is not necessary."

There was a long moment of silence. Satine was not as she usually was; there was a hard look about her features that Ahsoka knew had to be highly unusual for the normally calm woman. Not that she blamed her, the planet she had been left to rule was attempting a coup that would lead to an upsurge of violence and death, and though Ahsoka thought that perhaps she and Master Kenobi had never addressed their feelings to each other, there was more than a simple friendship between them. Ahsoka could only imagine the conflict she was in, but that's why the Jedi were here. To secure peace, to promote justice, to rescue an innocent man from torture and death, to save this planet.

"And we are here to rescue Obi-Wan and secure this planet. I'm not going to jeopardize that, Duchess." Anakin stood from his pilot's sat, Rex following him from the Co-pilot's seat. "Ahsoka and I will go with you." There was a hard stare between the two opposing forces, both wanting the same end goal, Ahsoka knew.

She nodded in agreement and turned to the Duchess, who stayed silent for only a moment, pressing her lips together in a thin line. "As you wish."

* * *

"Your friends have come for you, Kenobi." Obi-Wan could hear Maul's voice, rough and cold through the wave of unconsciousness. It started to rouse him, though as it did, the reality that came with waking hit him even harder. His arm felt like it was in splinters, almost the full weight of his body pulling at the two pieces of his broken wrist until it felt as though it might be ripped from his arm. When Ventress had left him in pain, Maul had arrived shortly after. The most pleasant thing he could say about the Dathomirian is that he hadn't favored whips and guards as Dooku had, this disgruntled Sith was at least willing to get his own hands dirty.

"I wonder when they will realize that they have walked into a trap. Thousands of battle droids are ready to wipe the remnants of Skywalker's battalion off the face of this planet. The Jedi who have come," And through the red-hued look of his own eyes, Obi-Wan could see him begin to tick off his long, clawed fingers. "Skywalker, his pathetic Padawan, Master Gallia, Master Mundi, Master Yoda." He reached the ends of his fingers and flashed a cold smile, the tips of teeth seeming to be rimmed with red. "They will all die as you will."

His hand came around Obi-Wan's jaw tightly, and the Jedi could feel the bones there groaning in protest and his teeth bite into his tongue, drawing blood. "At least their deaths will come quickly. Which is far more than I can say for you." He leaned even closer, pulling down on Obi-Wan's body, his wrist screaming in protest, "You'll die only when I allow it. And only when your pathetic body is destroyed." His breath was sour, his whisper harsh and stinging.

He stepped back, turning his back on Obi-Wan, who simply looked after him, his expression tight but unchanged. "This planet will be mine, Kenobi. Your Duchess," He watched for a reaction from Obi-Wan that never came, "has come to rescue you as well. Perhaps I'll keep her alive just long enough to watch you die. Or suffer alongside you."

And he stepped out, hand on his lightsaber; Obi-Wan knowing he was moving to command forces on the battlefield. He reached out with the force, trying to alleviate some of the pressure from his wrist, but nothing was helping. Especially not the cuts that seemed to be angled perfectly across his nerves endings, and the burns that pulled even tighter at all of his joints. It was doing nothing but muting an insurmountable amount of agony, and he felt himself slipping back into unconsciousness. But he couldn't fail them.

He reached out with the force, relinquishing the hold over his pain that he had; his body feeling pushed to the point of breaking. He reached for Anakin, keeping the image of his former apprentice, his friends, Satine in his mind to keep himself focused. If he could speak to them, he could warn them. They didn't know the Separatists were here. It was suicide to come barging in to the camp, they'd be slaughtered.

He tried to focus, pushing harder and harder through his mind, desperate to connect with him, but he was so far away. He felt his consciousness slipping, his vision going from red to black as cognoscente thought left him. He could no longer think words, only images; holding images that would hold the truth in his mind, hoping they reached them. He lost it completely, the jerk at his broken bones, the throbbing of his jaw, the sound of blood dripping from his back to the floor six inches beneath his feet the last things he knew.

 


	11. Reveal

Korkie Kryze had found himself in a number of peculiar situations as of late. He was, or techinically his mother was, the heir to the Mandalorian throne; and as he had gotten older, there were more and more responsibilities being passed onto him. He had led the brigade to aid in Obi-Wan Kenobi's rescue (something he had not expected his auntie to approve as a proposal in the first place), had taken to leading the baseline workings of the planet while she had gone to the Senate, and now was a Prisoner of War. Well, not war, exactly. Not yet. Conflict, his aunt would say.

But beyond that, he found himself caught in a place of explicit and unexplainable cruelty. He had not been mistreated particularly, other than being chained to a wall beyond his control and not quite given enough food or water. Until the night before, when he had been moved form his location at the front of the prison of the prison tent and instead had shared a cell with the only other prisoner worth keeping alive to these people. If he hadn't seen diagrams of battlefield injuries and taken a lead in to several medical courses at the academy, he might have vomited at the sight before him. A dying man, baptized in his own blood; suspended from the ceiling like some form of sick puppet.

Instead, after they had left him, he had shuffled as closely as he could, trying to speak with the man. It had taken him over an hour to realize that the man was Obi-Wan Kenobi. At the thought, a heavy burden of sorrow settled on him. From the way his Aunt talked about him, despite her outward visod, he understood how important this man was to her. And for that, as well as the fact that this was another innocent being, he had tried to help him.

Tried to speak with him to no avail. Had stood for long enough to try and loosen the chains that suspended and anchored him at the same time, but the guards had stopped him shortening his own linkages where he was helpless against the wall. It had been a long night, with little sleep and an almost insurmountable silence.

And then there was now, where he was being paraded in a field; he could feel the eyes of the hidden separatist battalions in the woods around him. He would have yelled at the coming party, only three figures, but his mouth was gagged with a rag that stank of alcohol and tasted of blood. Vizsla had a grip on his arm, unnecessary since he was chained to a low buzzing droid that weighed at least six times as much as he did.

Instead he watched, seeing the fine blonde hair of his Aunt in the distance. She was walking into a trap, and he, like the Jedi Master who had been left in the company of the red Sith as he had left, was helpless to stop it.

* * *

_Anakin_. He heard it so faintly, he thought it might be Ahsoka. He looked to her, but she was looking straight ahead. _Anakin_. It was even fainter, less than a whisper. Less whole than true words.

"Stop." He said, and the Duchess, though looking quizzical, paused along with Ahsoka. There were no more words, but there were images. Maul. Vizsla. Ventress. Those he expected, those might have been his own. Then Grievous. Then droids. Old images, pictures that flitted through his mind of places like Geonosis and Endor where droids had been hidden in the trees and dunes. Hiding. Waiting. The slaughter that followed, thousands of clones destroyed; dead Jedi strewn on open battlefields.

He tried to concentrate on them, but they faded, and then were gone. The thoughts were not his own. He looked forward, seeing at least four forms in the spot they were supposed to be; one was Ventress, easily recognizable. The other the massive Dathomirian that he had seen take Obi-Wan from the temple to begin with. The other two had to be Vizsla and Korkie. It seemed all was as it should be, but he couldn't shake the feeling. Where had those thoughts come from? They were certainly not conducive to the task at hand.

"Master?" Ahsoka said. If they waited much longer, they would miss the time cut off.

"Wait." He said, and a thought hit him. A terrible thought. He reached out with the force, trying to focus not on the living but the unifying, reaching beyond where he could feel his unconscious master, Darth Maul, Ventress, the others. Beyond that; and suddenly, heightened by his own field of vision, it was as if he could feel the Mandalorian soil moving underneath him. The thumping of thousands of battle droids, human soldiers, the clamping of Grievous' metal talons.

"It's a trap." He whispered. And, more than that, his Master had warned them.

* * *

Rex stood with Cody outside of the transport ship, both fully armored; but hoping this would be relatively easy. "I knew it was too much to ask," Rex joked, wishing it could be more lighthearted, their last trip on Serreno weighing heavy in his mind, his comlink starting to buzz.

"What can I do for you, General?" A tiny version of Skywalker appeared, whispering.

"Rex. I need oy to move everything but one squad into this area. We've been set up. Grievous is here with the rest of the separatist forces; the Death Watch soldiers are hiding and waiting for Satine to reject the terms of contract to attack. Darth Maul is here. You will need Jedi. Bring Master Mundi to us, Master Yoda will need to go into the camp. I believe Maul is there, defending Obi-Wan in case we attempt to break him out. You wont be able to kill him, send in the best squadron, force only knows what kind of defences they have."

"Don't move from your position, General. We'll be there as quickly as we can."

"It'll have to be faster than that, Rex. We don't have a choice. They can't know we know. We'll stall as long as we can."

"Yes, sir." Rex turned to Cody, but the man already had his helmet on, clones loading into the speeders behind him.

"I'll lead the troops to Skywalker. Go for the General." The fomer Domino squad stepped up behind Cody, saluting to Rex.

"Kenobi is your General, Cody; don't you think you should be the one to get him?"

A gloved hand wrapped around his shoulder army. "He is as much your General as he is mine, Captain." And he disappeared into the hold.

Rex nodded to his squad, not having to say a word as they boarded what was left of the land speeders for themselves and pealed off towards camp. Secretly, he was glad Cody had done this. Let him come for Obi-Wan. He owed the man everything, it was time to start paying him back.

* * *

Ventress watched Skywalker stall for a few moments. She inclined her head, thinking that their plan of secrecy might have failed after all, but after only what seemed like a few seconds, the peace party began their march forward again.

"You could clean yourself off." Viszla had snarled at her when she emerged from the prison; as he was going in to retrieve the man-child that the Duchess so valued.

"I am not here for you, Vizsla. I am here for Kenobi." She had smiled almost cruelly, and had seen the fear in his eyes. "And Skywalker." How sweet it would be to see the Jedi's reaction to her like this, her pale hands stained red, the front of her clothes still wet with Kenobi's blood.

And how right she was. The arrogant, self-beseeching Jedi had come within eye range of them and his steps had faltered as he took her in. She could feel his rage, feed off of it and his Padawan's confusion. How incredible it would be to show Skywalker what was left of his master before she watched the life leave his eyes. What revenge that would be for all he had taken from her.

"Duchess Satine, how nice to see you again." Vizsla's voice grated on her nerves, and she took time to regard the woman that called herself the ruler of this planet. She was tall and thin, with serious features. She looked as equally stubborn as Kenobi, and she gave a slight laugh that they would work so well together. She supposed they would be reunited soon enough anyway. "Let's begin shall we."

She could hear the gagged man trying to yell something to his aunt, but he was a pathetic soldier. He was probably attempting to warn them about the soldiers that had them surrounded as they spoke. That were ready to shoot and kill both the Duchess and the Padawan at the drop of anything not going as planned; to maim Skywalker into submission. Maul had wanted him, an added cruelty to Kenobi to watch his Padawan die in front of him; and she had to admit the idea had been exceptional.

"I am not here to make deals, Vizsla." She answered slowly. "I am here for my people."

And his eyes glinted with a deep satisfaction. She looked down at her eyes, full in the knowledge that Kenobi's blood would not be the only spilled today.

 


	12. Revenge

This was far more than she had bargained for. Her helmet, despite the fact that she wore it almost constantly, was starting to feel constrictive and tight. She was worried she might start hyperventilating, but she couldn't bear to take it off now. She had work to do.

She methodically worked at the tethers that bound him to the ground, freeing up his legs that simply dangled in the air. She did the same to his arms, and caught him as he fell down, completely dead weight. She placed two fingers on his neck, feeling to make sure this wasn't all for naught. But there was a faint pulse against her fingers. Pressing a receiver button, it was only a few seconds before two men, armed with staffs strapped to their backs, came in behind her. "Take him, please. I can't carry him alone." They hoisted him into the air, but one of them pressed hard against the man's wrist, and he groaned form weak lungs.

"Can you hear me?" There was no reaction at first, and she decided that he must still be unconscious. They started moving, her blaster locked and ready in her hands. He coughed then, sputtering.

"Who?" He managed to choke out. She stopped again. Though her helmet obscured her vision a good deal, she could see the bare extent of this man's injuries. Cuts, burns, bruises, from the way it was swelling, his wrist had to be broken.

"My name is Bo Katan." She said simply, and he managed to open his eyes and blink at her. He didn't react to her full casting of Mandalorian armor, nor to the unarmored men carrying him. "Kryze." She removed her helmet, and hoped to see the glimmer of recognition that flared dimly in his eyes.

"Satine?" He was fading again quickly.

"She is here. Meeting with Vizsla."

"No!" He tried to yell, but only succeeded in jerking open a wound precariously close to his throat. "It's…there's a trap….Greivous." But he was gone again.

"We need to hurry," She said. And the men nodded, following her to their speeder outside of the tent entrance. The four of them, him strapped onto the long bench in the back between the two men, hit the accelerator, moving away from the camp as quickly as possible. The rest of the battalions were cleared out for battle, but as she moved toward the entrance, she saw the imposing figure of Maul, his back turned to them. He hadn't seen them, not yet. She veered hard right, pushing them instead towards the side entrance of the camp, driving away from medical care, but to where the Jedi landing area was. She only hoped they would make it in time, and undetected.

She didn't have to spare a glance at the man behind her to have tears spring to her eyes. She knew the depth of Satine's feelings for this dying Jedi. It had been one of the things, her sister's grief, that had driven them apart so many years before. Perhaps this could begin to mend them. But there was more than that to her. If he was in this state, a Jedi with resilience and the force, then the Old Gods only know what they had done to Korkie.

She would have hoped that it was nothing equivalent. But the time for hope was over. This was war. It was time for action.

* * *

Rex slammed on the brakes of his bike, lurching forward. The other followed suit, the only one managing to stop gently was Fives, who carried Master Yoda on the back of his bike. Rex had expected them to have to hunt for Obi-Wan, to scour for Maul through the messy assemblage of a camp behind them. He had not expected the massive Dathomirian to greet them at the entrance, metal legs planted firmly on the ground, lightsaber in one hand, some kind of receiver or device in the other.

Rex snarled under his helmet, he could see, even though the former Sith's skin was red, the blood that dotted his tattoos. Obi-Wan's. "I must say, Jedi. I expected Skywalker to come for me in a fit of rage. I didn't expect ten clones and the grandfather of your Order." He laughed in his rasping tone. "Kenobi must be worth less than I thought."

By now, they had all disembarked, blasters raised; but the Sith remained entirely still, regarding them with unfeeling yellow eyes. Or, not quite unfeeling, he seemed to be enjoying himself. "We're not here to play games, Maul." He spat harshly, but Yoda stepped in front of him, raising his stick to stop him from lurching any farther forward.

"Speak with him, I will." The little Master said. Rex had heard extraordinary things about Yoda, from the Jedi, but from his brothers in Yoda's battalion as well. But it was difficult, seeing the imposing Dathomirian, to have confidence in someone that barely came to his kneecap.

"Come for Master Kenobi, we have." All of them, Maul included, waited on his to say something else. But it never came, he only advanced slowly, using his gimer stick for support. Finally he stopped, perhaps ten feet from the Sith. "Wish to fight, we do not."

"That's not what I would consider negotiable, Jedi." It was Maul's turn to spit out his words angrily.

"Wish to kill Mandalorians, we do not." Yoda seemed to be insisting. Rex raised a hand, and the others formed a diamond formation behind him.

"There are no soldiers here." He snarled. "I had other things in mind for your battalion and Kenobi." There went from nothing happening to in an instant, there was rapid movement. Yoda leapt in the air, not for Maul, but for the small sensor in his far hand, lightsaber extended. Maul blocked him, but the small master didn't stop. He moved in a blur, wheeling in flashes of bright and pale green in perfect harmony as Maul met them in quicker and quicker parries. "You are too late, Jedi."

"Men…" He wanted to tell them to shoot, to aim for Maul and fire, but the chances of hiding Yoda were extraordinarily high. He could not risk it. Instead, they stood helpless, watching a lightsaber duel that eclipsed anything he had ever witnessed, including Obi-Wan and Anakin duel fighting General Grievous.

"What do we do Captain?" "What's happening?" He could answer neither question. Yoda had sensed a threat, but this place was abandoned. Only the hum of a faraway speeder, getting even farther away, came to his ears. Then, one of Maul's kicks clipped Yoda, enough to make him fall back slightly, take seconds to compose himself. In that second, a cruel smile; a deliberate gesture of him mashing the red button of the sensor before he and Yoda were again locked in combat.

Nothing seemed to happen. The only sound that speeder and the hum of clashing lightsaber blades, small grunts of effort.

Then, the first glimpse of fire. An explosion. Rex took off his helmet and watched through his own eyes as one by one, the tents, the ration tent, the medical supplies, everything in the camp behind Maul exploded in a specific order. It was all swept in a fire hot enough to burn his eyes that he couldn't close.

He felt himself scream, a cruel laugh from Maul, cut short in a bubbling sort of gasp. But he didn't look long enough to take in that scene, where Yoda's small blade had pierced the man through the chest, instead, eh could feel the ground beneath his feet as he was running. Running towards the man they were supposed to rescue. Towards Obi-Wan. Towards death. Towards failure.

 


	13. Reconcile

Anakin was very aware of his own breath. Of a thousand pair of eyes, mechanical, alien, and human; on the three of them. They were gambling on far too much here. If the clones were too far delayed, if he could not move the Duchess to safety, if they decided to kill Korkie. His main concern at this point was Ventress, who had her lips curled back in her bald head, viewing him conspicuously with her hands settled on her twin saber hilts.

Now that he was a part of it, he could see their plan clearly. If negotiations passed, they had enough troops stationed around to slaughter them as soon as Satine signed over control to Vizsla. If negotiations went South, those same troops could kill the three of them in an ambush, and Korkie, named heir to the throne would be forced to sign over control of the planet or die in the same fashion as his aunt.

He listened to the Duchess speak, but his mind was elsewhere. He began, as slowly as was allowable, to reach out with the force, creating a barrier around himself, Ahsoka, and Satine. His main concern was Ventress detecting it, her dark eyes glittering at him. He realized that with both Dooku and Sidious dead, she and Maul were the inheritors of the Sith. And this being beside her, Savage; he was a tool for them to use at their own will. As she had been for Dooku for so long. Ahsoka barely started when the creeping edge of his force block reached her, and without acknowledging him at all, began to add her own power to the barrier that he was creating.

"My patience wears thin, Satine. Sign over the planet, or we kill the boy." Korkie was shaking his head in violent opposition, his face defiant. Anakin wasn't sure if that was a protest of her signing over the planet, or if he knew of the plan to kill her Aunt.

There was a long stretch of silence, and Anakin felt the bubble they were making pass over his shoulders. Only a few more seconds of bought time and they would be safe from bullets.

"Mistress!" The large being gasped, and fell to his knees. "Did you feel that?" He clutched a clawed hand over his heart, and Anakin reached forward to tug gently on Satine's arm. The force concentration sealed itself around them. It would hold, hopefully long enough for the troops to arrive.

"What?" She snarled. Vizsla looked over at them, a glimmer of fear in his expression. Anakin thought quickly, trying to picture a way to get Korkie and the Duchess to safety. He could protect one, but not both from the amount of blaster fire about to be ignited. He cared little for what was bothering the Dathomirian.

"They have killed him." He started to stand again, hand clamped onto the chest plate over his heart. "Brother…" And Anakin stopped. Maul was dead. Maul was dead. He dared a look to where he knew the enemy camp was. What had once been only a spot on the open Mandalorian Wilderness was now a pillar of smoke. It was rolling over the hills and the mountains and thickening the air. Maul was dead, but from the looks of it, every bit of the Deathwatch camp had been destroyed.

"If Maul is dead, then Kenobi has died with him." Vizsla said, taking a step forward, "The camp wouldn't be like that if he hadn't set off the mines." He turned with a cruel smile to Anakin and Ahsoka and Satine who to her eternal credit, held every inch of his gaze. "You were foolish to think you could rescue him. Sign over control, now."

"No." Satine said strongly, firmly. Her voice didn't waver, though Anakin could see fought-back tears on the edges of her eyes. "I will not sacrifice my people to terror and violence."

"Have it your way, Duchess." Behind his armor, he drew a saber hilt, igniting a black blade. He waved it briefly, not a battle stance, not a wave, but in a signal. The world seemed to move all at once; all of the soldiers surrounding them shifted into position at once, and the blaster fire that had been so long in coming began to rein down on them.

"Ahsoka, protect Korkie!" Anakin yelled, the force barrier he had constructed around them doing its work, all of the fire from Ahsoka's side being deflected harmlessly. He moved in an arc, blocking fire from them, trying to back Satine slowly away from the line of figures that still watched them as if they were a show.

"I will deal with Skywalker," He could hear Ventress' rasping voice over the fire in his ears.

"No." Vizsla responded, barring his dark saber in his hands. "Allow me." Anakin looked, seeing the face of a smug man, one who thought he had already managed to kill a Jedi, flying towards him, the blaster fire lessening, moving to concentrate instead on Ahsoka who moved like liquid lightning around Korkie. But Anakin knew better; and he could see, from the look on Ventress' face, that she did as well. Maul may have died, the camp he was stationed at up in smoke, but Obi-Wan was not dead. He could feel his steady pulse at his side. Wounded. Unconscious. In terrible pain. Alive.

* * *

Cody could hear the sound of blaster fire ahead, and itched to move more rapidly. But convoys only moved so quickly to begin with, and the loose the speeder bikes as protection could mean a lot of unnecessary carnage. Master Mundi sat cross legged in the front of the main transport, they were entirely dependent, being given no maps of any kind, on his ability to move them to the correct locations.

"General!" Cody yelled over the engines. "Where is the best entry point?"

"They are surrounded on all sides." He answered, barely loud enough to be heard. "Grievous is waiting on our arrival."

"Sir?" He didn't want to hear how dire the situation was. That, he already knew.

"On the left. Grievous is on the right with his parcel of droids, if we can take them out, perhaps it will give Master Yoda and his troops enough time to reach us before he can make his attack." The Jedi stood, blue saber extended, and pointed broadly to the right. "We should be there in seconds."

Cody pushed forward, staying on his bike as the transport emptied ground soldiers that began peppering the droids with a barrage of blaster fire. He flipped on the turbo lasers, making short work of the small recon droid command unit he could hit, before rushing off to join them. He kept up his fire, ducking, rolling, making his way steadily forward, droids lying lifeless on the ground in his wake.

In the distance, he saw Skywalker, dancing in a circle with his lightsaber drawn; trying to block blaster fire and duel with a man in a full suit of Mandalorian armor at the same time. Cody recognized the woman with him as the Duchess of Mandalore, and set in mind his own mission. He would rescue her. Free up the General to fight. Then maybe, just maybe, they might make it out of this alive. Unless Grievous realized what was happening. In which case, he would be happy to make it out remembered.

* * *

Rex felt a hand on his shoulder as tried to begin moving the rubble out of the way of what had been the prison tent. Pieces of building, scrap metal, shards of glass were stuck in the ground over what had once been an entrance. He tugged at the materials, only succeeding in rolling them into different piles alongside the rest. "It's no use, Captain." It was Fives, his voice quiet. He had his helmet off as well, even though the smoke was almost choking. "He couldn't have survived that."

Rex's mind screamed out in protest. He couldn't be dead. Not after all of this. Not after surviving so much. There had to be a mistake. But his body stopped. He knew that Fives was right. That monster, the one now dead on the field behind them, had made sure of that. He stood slowly, knees aching from having been so crouched. "Where is Master Yoda?"

But the little green Jedi was already starting to make his way over to where they were, climbing carefully over the rubble. Rex didn't think he had ever seen someone look so tired. "Powerful, Maul's hatred was." He said grimly, leaning on his stick as he came to stand in front of the two clones. "Consumed by the dark side of the force."

"We were too slow." Rex said, and could feel his voice wavering. This was war. This was just another death. Why did this hit so hard? He could see, feeling the bizarre urge to laugh, why the Jedi did not make attachments. Even this one, a friendship through shared experiences with a man now lost, was almost too much to bear. "General Kenobi is dead."

"Not certain of that, I am." Yoda said, and Rex looked down at the little green Jedi. "But help the others now, we must. Change the past, we cannot." Rex nodded, a small seed of hope settling in his stomach; and picked up the little master, carrying him back to speeders. He wanted to believe Yoda, but regardless of that, he was a soldier. And this was a war. There was no time for this.

 


	14. Realizations

Grievous got the call seconds before he heard the blaster fire. The Jedi had arrived on their location, only a small group though; Skywalker and his apprentice. There were no others to be seen, Kenobi was still secure. He had unfurled his metal shoulders, exercising his tired lungs for only a moment before the blaster fire had interrupted. "Move to their position. Do not give yourselves away." He had passed command on to one of the droids who stood next to him, collaborating with the Deathwatch commander at his side as well.

He, however, had listened for the sound of lightsabers. There were other Jedi on this planet besides Skywalker and the child; they would be arriving, but he would head them off. He had started running, tearing up great clumps of dirt and grass and rock as his metal talons sank into the Earth and tore them up beneath him. The clones came into sight, he watched as the Assassin moved gracefully over the field, felling them with flicks and twitches of her lightsaber. He saw Skywalker's apprentice, and was sorely tempted to go to her, where he could see her barely able to deal with a constant barrage of blaster fire while taking care of the sniveling man who was set to inherit this planet. But the soldiers could deal with her, especially without Skywalker, locked in combat with Vizsla to help her.

No one had seen him yet, but he saw now his goal at the far end of the field, where another Master, Mundi, was slicing through droids and severing the weapons of soldiers as his blue saber swept in a constant arc. He laughed, choking a bit, the pathetic Jedi was yet to see him. He remembered one encounter, he had slaughtered two other Jedi, injured two more and still this one had fought on. He leapt after him, spiraling in front of him as another droid collapsed to the ground, two sabers extended in his detachable arms.

One look on Mundi's face, the tightening of his grip on the blue hilt, that brief flash of fear confirmed all he needed to know. "We meet again, Master Mundi. It's been a long time." The Jedi waited, not responding. They always waited to attack, but this time it would not matter. This time, things between him and Mundi would be different, and he, in his eternal struggle against the Jedi, would have another lightsaber to add to his collection.

* * *

"They must have engaged them." One of the men behind her on the speeder said as they pulled into view of the Jedi landing spot. The grass was flattened in huge swatches, and long lines were burned through them where they had clearly left on speeders and in their ship.

"We'll have to follow them." Bo-Katan announced, readjusting her helmet. "They have the medical supplies we need. And they might have Korkie."

The two men nodded. She was grateful for their loyalty; they had not questioned why she had put them all at such risk to save this outsiders life, they had not pressed her to provide evidence of Korkie still being alive. They had simply followed her. They were age-mates of her son, recent graduates of the academy that until recent events, had been avid about the return of Mandalore to its warrior ancestry. But they, like she, had decided that the time for war was coming to its close. There was no need for this, not with so many lives; both innocent and guilty, hanging in the balance.

She kicked hard at the side of the speeder, the engine restarting where it had rested, and she pushed hard forward, trying her best not to jerk around too much. This man, Kenobi, hadn't moved the entire trip. Not so much as a groan or gaps or shuffle to indicate he was alive or able to hear them at all. She only hoped the Jedi were ready to face what might be the loss of one of their own; each second that passed as they sped over lauded hills and planes, he seemed to be getting paler, to be bleeding less and less, the life slowly seeping from him.

* * *

Satine turned quickly, trying to keep an eye on everything happening at once. She had seen the Jedi reinforcements arrive on the left side of the field, but now could see the droid and Deathwatch group moving in on the right. The white skinned assassin that had come with Vizsla was moving around the field in a deadly dance, cutting down clones that seemed to always be right within reach of her crimson blades. Her stomach was rolling, the air smelled staunchly of blood and fire and death; this was War, and War is Hell.

She had pulled the deactivator from her belt, and thus far has disabled several droids that came near her. But her situation was getting desperate and she knew it. She watched as Skywalker, moved swiftly. He was a superior fighter to Vizsla, but the man was almost fully encased in Mandalorian iron, resistant to lightsabers; in order to kill him it would have to be an even beheading, and that was going to prove incredibly difficult. That was to say nothing of also have to dealing with the yellow Dathomirian, who was bounding between Skywalker who would through him off with a flicker of the force, to his apprentice, who was trying to defend Korkie, ducked behind a large rock on one side.

These clones were valiant soldiers, but sheer numbers were beginning to overwhelm them, and she knew that at the moment she was being a burden, having to be defended, unable to defeat any of the droids encircling the battlefield. Another moment, and she heard what sounded like a metallic screech. The other Jedi, the one who had brought the soldiers with him, was fighting with one of the most terrifying things she had ever seen. She might have called it a droid if it weren't for its yellow eyes that glowed with a cold attempt at life. But whatever horrors these were, she knew she would have to be strong, and now, taking cover behind a rock, deactivating droids before they could aim more carefully at clones, was serving her well.

She felt a rough hand grip her shoulder. Pull her from the cover of rock. She wanted to protest, but the sound would have been drowned in the screeches of raging battle, and as she turned to see her captor, she realized it was friendly. One of the clones, "Sorry, your highness." He said, blasting a hole in a droid in front of him. "I have to get you to safety."

She didn't answer, only deactivated a droid in front of him, though he was outpacing her rapidly, downing half a dozen droids while in an almost full run. He got her to the edge fo the clearing, the acrid smell of smoke in her nostrils, tears burning down her face as it got into her eyes. "Please, ma'am, stay safe here. We'll handle them."

"Who are you?" She yelled, hearing what sounded like a bomb ricochet over the ground, where it shook violently.

"Name's Cody, your highness." She could hardly hear him, but he nodded at her. "I'm in General Kenobi's battalion." The name twisted at her stomach, she tried to smile at him. He didn't know then, that Obi-Wan had died. She watched him disappear back onto the battlefield, rolling as he clipped another droid with his blaster pistol.

That thought, of Obi-Wan, that single thought hit her and she collapsed to the ground. Not just over him, over all of this. She was met twice with the desire to rush back to the field, to save Korkie, to save Anakin, to save Obi-Wan who, if she had known the last time was the last time she would see his face, she would have said more. Been more gentle, said something else. And now, all of these clones, the Jedi, all of them could die for her planet. For her inability to sacrifice her own ideals of peace; ideals that had led to so much turmoil and pain, but still settled in her heart as the only true option. To sacrifice peace now would only fan the fire that was fueling this war. And this carnage was enough.

She stood, not sparing a glance behind her, moving to the safety of the Jedi transport. She heard a low buzz, beyond that of the battle. She looked up and saw, in the distance, two sects of speeders, approaching from different places. One, she could make out the tiny figure of the famed Master Yoda, resting on one of the troopers shoulders, was friendly. The other was a Deathwatch soldier, fully clad in Mandalorian armor, and two men. They were speeding towards her at extraordinary clip, though she thought Deathwatch might have a fair advantage over the other pair.

She stood to watch, she knew she had no chance of fighting this soldier and succeeding; both because she would not fight, and they were trained assassins. But she would not stand down, or run away. These were her people, this soldier was one of her own; she would not bow down from them. She waited, ignoring the waiving of one of the approaching clones to run, ignoring the bike that seemed to be speeding up as it came towards her, the covered eyes of the soldier locked on her own.

She ignored them, and waited for her fate.


	15. Chapter 15

"If you are going to kill me soldier, do it now," She watched as the helmeted guard, "I would rather die here amongst my people than take part in this war." She stood her ground solidly, her heart aching with each word that came past her lips. Her planet was being destroyed around her and she was powerless to stop it. Obi-Wan was dead, her nephew in imminent danger, her pacifist ideals crumbling around her. And now, now was staring in the face one of the soldiers that had brought this destruction to them; and behind them, two of Korkie's former classmates perched on the back of the speeder, blaster rifles lain across their laps.

"I always felt you were too black and white in your views." The soldier said, their voice muffled through the mask. But higher-pitched, lingering on the edge of familiar. But the soldier did not raise their guns, instead, simply stood and seemed to be looking at Satine through the visor pulled down over their face, even as Master Yoda and the speeders holding clones moved closer.

Then the scene changed, as the small green master came close enough to be defined in her eyes, the Deathwatch soldier took their helmet in their hands and pulled themselves free of it. She wanted to fall to her knees. The familiar red hair taking her by shock, her hand moving over her mouth to stifle the gasp.

"Bo?" But her sister said nothing else, even as a parcel of clones unloaded from their speeders, guns cocked. She raised her hands to stop them, and they halted, one of their eyes glazed with pure pain and operant fury. “Bo-Katan?”

"Where is Korkie?" She couldn't speak but gestured to the battlefield where the sounds of explosions and blaster fire seemed to be circling all around them. Her sister nodded, still no smile or acknowledgement gracing her features.

"This one needs medical help." She turned, pulling her helmet back over her head; she gestured to the unhelmeted soldiers on the speeder, "I'll be joining the fight." And before Satine could speak, she was gone, sprinting into the thicket of trees that seemed to line the battlefield that Vizsla and Ventress had chosen.

She turned back, watching as one of the men climbed gingerly down from the back of the speeder, taking extreme care not to move the bike too much. She took a few steps forward, reaching her hands out carefully to the lip of the speeder bike; the clones standing from their battle formations to join her.

"Unsure of what this means, I am." Master Yoda said carefully, leaning heavily on his gimer stick as she reached a hand down to the man in the speeder, her fingers trembling. She could hardly believe it was him, that part of her without him already seemed so hollow. Obi-Wan didn't move as she brushed against his face, dried blood crumbling against her fingertips, some still wet staining the skin red. She was surprised to feel no tears come to her eyes, only a hard sort of determination.

"Over the hill," She said finally, realizing they were on a strict time restraint. "There are supplies for him there."

And she watched them go, longing to go with them, but realizing that her place was here. In this fight. With her people. Her nephew. Her sister.

 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She slipped through the halls of the temple. Nothing had been amiss the last few days, the panic in the resurgence of Darth Maul and Master Kenobi's capture had left the temple in slight chaos under the ever-present watch of Master Windu. She had begun to walk with more reassurance than she had in those few days after the attack, even now her own master had stopped questioning her behavior, having enough to deal with on her own.

She was grateful for the distraction; the lack of manpower to perform an investigation had helped her tremendously. Though she felt that the incident had been overshadowed by Kenobi's capture. Further proof of the Jedi corruption she had finally begun to see; they had ignored the death of all of the temple workers in order to save one Jedi who had already been taken hostage. They were slaves to a still corrupt government and their own ideals. She had made them pay, had seen it for herself. This would not be the end of it.

She walked the halls now, knowing she was free of suspicion, and could not help but think of Ahsoka. Her Togrutan friend was the one voice in the temple she found now to be reasonable, she was able to mostly control her emotions as a true Jedi should, but had never lost sight of her humanity. She did not want her to be harmed, but if justice were to be served, she couldn't hesitate.

They would be back in two days time, or have died on Mandalore. She doubted Master Kenobi would survive the trip, she had seen the pieces of the transmission received from Vizsla through her watchful scanners she had placed in the high-traffic areas for the masters of the temple. Her timing would have to be perfect to catch all of them, including Master Yoda, off guard. But of course, her timing would be perfect. Her plan was perfect.

 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“I would have thought the most famous Jedi in the galaxy might have been a bit more of a challenge.” Vizsla taunted him over the roar of the battle, using the jetpack strapped to his back to maneuver around Anakin, making him jettison around in circles to keep pace. “But, I suppose it isn’t entirely your fault. I mean, with Kenobi…”

Anakin leapt, his vision flaring red. He felt the heaviness of the Mandalorian armor collide with his body, but pressed forward, slamming them both to the ground, rolling off of Vizsla, igniting his lightsaber. “That isn’t a thought you want to finish.” He snarled, running at Vizsla again as the man raised his sword to fend him off in the nick of time.

“Mandalore is mine, Skywalker. Your master is dead.” He said, swinging wildly. He was a skilled swordsman, if Obi-Wan was here, he would chastise Anakin for not being up on his history, but it was evident that this was a part of the warrior culture this man considered himself a part of. “And the Duchess will follow him.”

Anakin didn’t dignify that with a response, instead spinning, blocking a too-high stike and landing a solid kick into Vizsla’s chest. This fight needed to end, he was needed far more elsewhere. If it wasn’t for that damn iron, it would have been done ages ago. But her refused to get frustrated, only to think of it as the final obstacle. He waited, parrying strikes as he waited for the perfect opportunity to come to him.

Finally, as he looked into the wild eyes of the man in front of him, it came. He ran his blade down the darksaber in an instant, piercing through the man’s hand. A scream of pain never escaped his lips as he swung up, effectively severing it from his body as it thumped hard in the grass, the body collapsing in front of him the darksaber rolling out of the now-limp hand.

He paused, saber poised, as he looked at the product of himself. He closed his eyes, unable to stop that guilt that washed over him. It was so strange, normally, he felt very little. There were some deaths, like this one, that were necessary to the galaxy’s safety. He was starting to realize how much of his life had been tempered by Sidious’ influence, the subtle darkness that had crawled into his soul. He thought of Obi-Wan, and how, after every death he witnessed or played a role in had floored the man. How much he had taken that for granted, even written it of as weakness. But he couldn’t afford to stop now. Ventress, Grievous, Maul, others…there was too much at stake for grief.

He stepped forward, picking up the abandoned saber he clipped to his belt, leaving instead to find his apprentice who he knew had to be fighting not only for her own life, but for the future of the planet.


End file.
